it can be so peaceful if we leave right now
or we can live and go later and stay with the struggle
to see the light in things or let the light see you
is the cry of the Hamlet of our age it seems
it's kind of sad thinking back on past memories
knowing while you saw black, all the rest saw bright blue
will the view ever change?
does it get better from here?
i try to care but lose it with every last tear
i'm like a ship out at sea experiencing mutiny
my cries for help are overridden by the chant of the sailor
"move on to our ways or its cut throat, cut throat"
as i strain for an answer, i'm cut off all to soon
the blade pulls from my neck, "that's the end of this game"
says the deathdealer grinning while sweat drops out of his pores
i feel the air meet my flesh and my chest growing wet
and i fall to my knees but to leave you with these
"i'm sorry, dear friends, the madness doth end, with a word such
as this..."
i'm cut short again

 
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